“Might have very well cemented Haugerud’s name as one of his generation’s most keen observers of the human, sexual condition.”

The art of conversation. This phrase sprang to mind while watching Love, the second film in Norwegian helmer Dag Johan Haugerud’s “Sex Dreams Love” trilogy (although since Dreams has been pushed to 2025 it should probably be “Sex Love Dreams“). The second installment, another look at relationships and their complexity, especially when the sexuality of said relationships falls outside of societal norms, is built around a series of conversations that show that Haugerud is not only a good director, but also an excellent writer. The warmth, humanity, and sincerity of his dialogue make these scenes pop off the screen with realism and depth. And although Love‘s story arc plays second fiddle to the personal development of its characters (in other words: not a whole lot happens), the comfort of this piece of ‘warm bath’ cinema makes you wish you could spend more time with this group of conflictless and utterly human characters.

Marianne (Andrea Bræin Hovig) tags along as her friend Heidi (Marte Engebrigtsen) gives a tour around Oslo’s City Hall to pitch a project for Oslo’s centennial. Heidi’s interpretation of the various statues around the building as being subliminally accepting of different sexual preferences befuddles those she has to convince. As the two women discuss this modest failure on the ferry across the fjord to go to another meeting surrounding Oslo’s celebration, they run into Tor (Tayo Cittadella Jacobsen), a male nurse who works with Marianne in Urology, specializing in prostate cancer.

Heidi tries to set up Marianne with Ole Harald (Thomas Gullestad), a divorced geologist whose ex-wife Solveig (Marian Saastad Ottesen) lives next door. Clearly attracted to Ole Harald, Marianne steals a moment to pinch his bottom, a gesture he doesn’t seem to mind. On her way back to the city she runs into Tor again, who explains he sometimes takes the ferry back and forth just to meet men he finds on Grindr. Later we see him indeed hook up with Björn (Lars Jacob Holm), a psychologist. Björn is not interested in casual sex, but the two men nevertheless have a deep conversation about work struggles, sex and kinks, and what makes relationships meaningful.

A few days later, as Marianne visits Ole Harald without the baggage of her friend, the two share a kiss but Marianne turns down the opportunity to stay the night. As she again finds herself on the ferry, her freshly installed Tinder profile connects her to a carpenter (Morten Svartveit), an encounter that does lead to casual sex, but also to more conversation on relationships, marriage, and the difference in treatment of men and women when it comes to sexuality.

Tor in the meantime by chance runs into Björn again, and later figures out that Björn had a prostate removal. He checks up on him in hospital, and later visits Björn at home to help out with groceries and other chores. Their relationship doesn’t become sexual (Björn is still catheterized) but is entirely based on human connection, as Björn opens up about his sex life, his fear of AIDS, and how he has shut off relationships for a long while.

As Marianne and Ole Harald’s relationship develops, Marianne one morning is confronted with her new partner’s young daughter on their doorstep. As Marianne takes that as her cue to leave for work, she comes across Solveig, and the two discuss, again, their relationships and how Marianne is unconventional in the way she approaches them. One last trip on the ferry reunites Marianne with Heidi and Tor, where they discuss what the important things in life are.

That is basically a synopsis of the whole film. It doesn’t matter, because what is important are the human connections and the various interactions between the characters, which are not dramatic, not erudite, but just honest and open, and more genuine than in most films; although the frankness of two colleagues, whose relationship seems otherwise strictly professional, discussing their sex life might seem alien to most. And because the language is so natural, the actors deliver very natural performances as well. Bræin Hovig and Cittadella Jacobsen, who play more or less the two central characters, are excellent as people whose sex life would fall outside the norm, but the others get their moments, and in particular Holm delivers a devastating performance as a man finding a deep human connection when he least expected it.

Although Love is low on drama or even plot, Haugerud keeps the film appealing precisely because he gives the interactions between the players room to breathe, in part also because of his subtle but effective direction. A little zoom here, a well-placed panning shot there, to keep the focus on the characters and their interplay, their body language and their placement in the frame. There is a certain romanticism, but also a sensuality in Haugerud’s visuals (to this end he uses Oslo at night to great effect as well) that neatly fit this story of sexual self-discovery which acutely shows the differences between women and men with regards to the way society expects them to behave sexually. And it does the same to gay men and heterosexual men, which is why Marianne can connect so well with Tor’s approach to his sex life. Love hits on some core human and societal issues, but does so in a non-didactic way. In that sense it follows the lead of Sex, the first film in the trilogy; once Dreams comes around it might have very well cemented Haugerud’s name as one of his generation’s most keen observers of the human, sexual condition.

(c) Image copyright: motlys_K1